House Of Legions (The Angel Descendants book 1)

Chapter 63 (Liam)



Chapter 63 (Liam)

Liam moved with a speed faster than light, the sword from Aneil’s hand now in his own as he guided it through Aneil’s heart knowing full well that he had just killed the high-rank Angel, and almost two hundred Asguardians had bared witness to it.

The Angel's eyes widened with shock, as he took his last breath, before resuming into nothing. The Asguardians charged against Liam, dislodging them as fast as he was capable he grabbed Ulaidea by the arm. Sword, on the other hand, the two of them ran for the door, which was, still meters away.

Dukael stood by the door, This material belongs to NôvelDrama.Org.

Liam ran nearer, dragging Ulaidea by the arm.

Dukael pulled out a dagger from his belt, and grinned sheepishly at Liam, before he bowed his head, “You said piss them off El, not start a world war this wasn’t in the plan.”

Liam arched a brow, “Plans change.”

Ulaidea looked from Liam to Dukael, her voice as shocked as her eyes, “You hold a Harpien blade and befriend an Asguardian, what are you.”

He let her arm go, and turned on his toes, flinging the back of the blade across the face of one of the Asguardians, who was ten feet away, he yelled, “Dukael, take her to Safiereal.”

He faced the crowd, who sought his death, as Dukael listened and ran for the door with Ulaidea trailing behind.

Liam’s body started glistening streaks of electric blue, only letting enough kiss his skin, he didn’t want to have more power.

“Blade, speak your name, live,” He ordered in a steady and firm voice, as he commanded the Harpien blade.

Whilst he booted another Asguardian, another came up behind him as he attempted to pass Liam. The intent of the Asguardian was clear, he was going after Ulaidea, she was still Raphael’s lady. But Liam was faster, more trained in combat. He grabbed the neck of the Asguardian and flung him across the room, the Asguardian’s bones crushed as he hit a hard wall on the left.

The Harpien blade he yielded started to change, as it whispered “Surta.”

Two more Asguardians came toward him, as the blade glowed with the black angelic writing on its metal before it transformed into its true self, a long razor-sharp bladed samurai sword.

Liam glowed with the frost of his anger, his skin now slicked with beams of electricity and ice. The shield which protected his identity was actually a rare obsidian stone versed by a Blackwyll, the last breed of stone Verses on the earth. It also kept his abilities at bay, but his body was getting stronger, his power growing, soon there would be nothing to hide his fury, and the sparks that sizzled his skin, proved that soon meant now.

He didn’t want the Asguardians hurt permanently. He was going to have to weaken himself, by electrocuting his mind, it was the only way as there were too many innocents in Asguard. Angels hardly ever conceived, with only two hundred and thirty-seven offspring, amongst two hundred thousand Angels, in the last three thousand years. Killing them was just not done, even the Tempters refused to kill the Angels spawn unless for a valid reason, and that was what had brought forth the last war, the battle he had fought alongside Franchesca and Azazy-el, the war where thousands of Lightwatchers fell, the war that had earned Draiken his respect, the war of descendants.

Something sharp poked him in his lower spine, and four more followed two on his neck, and one on his thigh,

Tranquilliser,

They were putting him down like a rabid animal, he had never expected that, but it saved him the trouble of frying his mind. The ground blurred and spun under him as he felt a boot connect with his stomach, and multiple hands fist his face, everything numbed as lots of them unleashed the anger they had worked up by the thought of him killing an Irin.

He pushed the rest of himself, to succumb to the darkness which would follow, he needed to do one last thing, reach Jullie, “It’s Ista-el, go, go now.’

The whisper he knew would be enough as he closed his eyes and sucked in his last breath, surrendering to the darkness crowding behind his eyelids.


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